


behind

by skittlesjedward



Category: Jedward, X Factor (UK) RPF
Genre: Butts, Incest, Jedcest, M/M, Masturbation, Smut, Twincest, ass worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 15:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1784326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittlesjedward/pseuds/skittlesjedward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Edward’s ass is all John can think about, most of the time.</i>
</p><p>Haha, butts is a tag. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	behind

Edward’s ass is all John can think about, most of the time. At least, that’s what it feels like. When he wakes up in the morning sticky and uncomfortable after another awkward dream and Edward is still asleep, hair a mess with one leg out and hooked around the covers, John is thinking about it. He sees it, there, part of it, anyway. One perfectly curved cheek, covered by Edward’s red pants. His mouth waters and he hates himself, hates what his mind is doing to him, hates that even though he clearly already had a wet dream, his dick is getting hard again. Over his own brother, too, just to add insult to injury.

Fuck, though. Edward’s skin is so pale and soft and he’s literally less than a metre away and John is aching, aching to touch, to touch it. He wants to trace the bottom edge of Edward’s pants with his fingertip, he wants to slip beneath the material and give that asscheek a squeeze, full on. _Fuck_.  
  
How it would feel. Oh, God. John muffles a groan in his duvet and rolls onto his side to face Edward, Edward’s ass. He tries to think about it like it isn’t attached to his twin but when he pictures other girls with an ass like Edward’s it just isn’t the same. They’re not him: his shoulders are bigger, his waist is so slim, and the way his hips sway as he walks, how he looks in his skinny jeans, how he looks in  _any_  jeans. Oh, God.   
  
He’s palming himself now, or maybe he was already doing that, he can’t remember. He’s in a daze, it’s like that one asscheek has him hypnotised and he can hardly breathe. He imagines Edward naked, now, and he hasn’t seen his twin in that state of undress quite so often since they were kids but his mind can conjure up enough material gathered from glimpses over the years. It’s easier picturing Edward from the back, easier to stomach as if he were some faceless fit boy that John might’ve seen somewhere once upon a time. He starts at the neck - not the hair, it’s so obviously Edward if he thinks about that - and works his way down in his mind.  
  
Slowly, slowly. The gentle curve of his spine between those two jutting shoulderblades that John wants to kiss, yes, he’s thinking about that. How warm the skin would be beneath his lips, how he would drag his mouth down and over, flick the tip of his tongue out to taste. His hands would look so big on Edward’s tiny waist, he’d probably hold him like that for a moment or two just in awe. They’d fit, of course, John knows they’d fit so well, they were meant to, but now it’s not a faceless boy anymore and his hand is fully inside his underwear, grasping at his dick.  
  
It’s Edward, beautiful Edward; with his sweet laugh and his fucking gorgeous ass. John wants to trail his fingers over the sharpness of Edward’s hips and down, let his thumbs skate the dimples in Edward’s lower back. And then, finally, he sees himself kneeling like he’s praying, skimming his palms up his twin’s taut thighs to his glorious prize. He’d grab it, fiercely, relish in Edward’s surprised mewl and then soothe away the surprise with kneading fingers.  
  
Maybe he’d kiss him there. Yeah, John’s pretty sure he would, actually. He’d kiss Edward anywhere if he was allowed to. Definitely at the base of his spine. Definitely on both cheeks. He’d bite there, too. Gently at first, to test the waters: Edward would probably jolt and exclaim ‘what the hell!’ and they’d laugh, and John would do it again, slower, harder. Suck the skin, leave a mark. Claim it, claim him.  
  
He wants to lick that crease between cheek and thigh, wants to make his brother shiver because he knows the backs of Edward’s knees are ticklish, so it’s only logical. His dick is positively drooling now as he fists it, sets his teeth into the duvet to keep from moaning out loud, his eyes dry and itchy because they’ve been open the whole time, just staring at half of Edward’s ass.  
  
It’s gross - it’s not, not really, but he thinks maybe it should be - how he wants to part Edward’s full cheeks and look at his hole. He’s looked at his own after a shower once or twice, contorting in weird ways in front of a mirror just out of curiosity, and it’s nothing special really. Puckered and pink, and he’s gotten off pretty good just rubbing his finger over it while he wanks, desperate to know what a finger in there would feel like but a bit too apprehensive to try. Edward, though, John thinks he’d love it.  _He’d_  love to slide a finger into Edward’s ass, for sure.  
  
Edward sighs suddenly and shifts, and John freezes, heart hammering in his ears and his dick throbbing in his palm. A few beats and nothing more, and he sighs his relief, tries to calm down too because he doesn’t want to come just yet, and that’s when he realises Edward’s covers have slipped and John can see more of his ass now.  _Way_  more. Fuck, yeah. It’s almost as if his brother is jutting it out on purpose in his sleep, but that’s dumb, and anyway, Edward’s ass kind of looks like that without any effort on his part regardless.  
  
The image of him kneeling is still fresh and John’s dick is begging for him to carry on, his balls are tight and aching but his mind seems hungrier than that somehow, so he lets it wander again as soon as he hears Edward’s breath evening out. It’s like he’s worshipping Edward and his ass - a quick apology to God, Catholic guilt ever present, but it’s worth worshipping, surely. He sees himself sucking on two fingers, the fingers of his other hand sinking into Edward’s fleshy cheek to grab it again so he can rub his fingers over the hole that would peek at him.  
  
Maybe Edward would say what the hell again, John knows it feels kind of strange at first but he’d shush him and tell him it’s worth it, add some pressure to prove it. He’s felt his own hole start to give before and he knows that’s what Edward’s would do, but he’d keep going this time instead of stopping like he usually does on himself. He’d push a bit more, let just the tip of his finger slip inside. The thought of how tight it would be has him reeling, he has to stop wanking and squeeze himself to keep from coming, force his breath to slow down because he’s sure he’s panting way too loud.  
  
Jesus. Now he’s imagining how tight Edward’s ass would be around his dick and it’s too much, his mind is gone and barrels all his previous fantasies and this one all together too quickly: his hands, Edward’s waist, his dick in Edward’s ass, pounding hard, hips slapping skin and Edward’s sharp cries as John fucks him, fucks him hard, squeezing, shivering, grinding, fucking. He’s coming and it’s too soon and just right all at once, he screws his eyes shut and lets it wash over him, feels himself spurt over his already-sticky fingers and he’s shuddering violently, biting the duvet, biting his lip.  _Oh, fuck_.  
  
When he finally comes down, when he can finally breathe and hear sounds that aren’t just his heart pounding and his breath hitching, he finds Edward has rolled over at some point to face him. And he is awake.


End file.
